She's Beautiful  I'm Breaking
by Hemogasms
Summary: So here we are, Heather and Naya, once a two-shot, now we're just caught playing a seemingly endless game of avoidance, denial and damage control. Heather&Naya  Heya  M RATED.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: My first published Heya. Feedback would be lovely. Tried to do this tastefully, and it was certainly more about the plot than the accidental smutt :)**

**Review and tell me what you think? I also have a part 2 in my head for this, to perhaps give it the ending we all know it should have, but that all depends on the interest ;)**

**THIS IS NOT REAL. I own nothing, and no offense is intended, I worship Heather and Naya…like really.**

**Heather's POV.**

**M for a reason.**

I'm careful not to let our eyes meet. I just can't.

The crowd is roaring, screaming. Our heads are low as we take a bow, our hands joined. When the lights go down I hold on for just a second longer than I should, but somehow I can't let go.

Her hand feels small in mine, delicate and soft. The heat of a physical connection between us is like a bucket of ice-cold water over the burning ache that's lived in my chest the last two months, only I know as soon as her fingers leave mine, I'll have to pay for my temporary reprieve.

I know the fire around my heart will be back with a vengeance, an unadulterated need, to burn me alive as I lie alone in my hotel room tonight.

When we perform, we are set free.

Ever since that night, when fuelled by wine and the comfort we find only in each other, we let our lips touch, it has been this way.

In front of thousands of pairs of eyes we are safe, our hands can brush, and I can stare deep into her chocolate eyes until I forget everything. I can dare to let myself live, let my life feel complete, neither of us have to face the danger, or acknowledge the tightrope we're balancing so precariously on.

In front of thousands of pairs of eyes we are safe. Alone, we are not.

Pandora's box…That's how she described it, it was just the metaphor I was floundering for, as I desperately tried to ignore the flush on my cheeks and the way my lips tingled, screamed, ached to touch hers again.

So here we are, Heather and Naya, once a two-shot, now we're just caught playing a seemingly endless game of avoidance, denial and damage control.

Another week has slithered away. Another state. Another show. Sometimes I wonder why we're doing this…why we're fighting the gravity that is constantly trying to pull us together…

Then the phone rings, and he's calling me. I'm saying my lines just right – 'I'm fine, I miss you, I love you'. My acting classes are paying off, and he's buying every word, he misses the break in my voice as we say goodbye – she wouldn't.

I have a life…him, my family, Glee, Fox… too much to gamble with on a relationship that might not even work, for starters I'm not gay…or at least I wasn't.

But that again, all these things that we can't risk, do they really weigh up to more than our happiness? I don't think so. Maybe Naya does? Maybe she's happy just to go on, maybe she doesn't need me like I need her.

Then I can almost see the image of her dark eyes full of pain, wanting, desperation, every time she looks into mine, and I know I'm lying to myself.

xxxxx

"Hemo she needs you" Dianna insists with a small smile that says 'I know you'll do the right thing' and an apology in her eyes that I know I don't deserve.

So now I'm leaning against her hotel room door, my hand shakes as I force it to rap against the hardwood, "It's me" I call out, the sound of my own voice startling me, "Heather" I add weakly, incase she forgot.

The door cracks and I'm inside, my breath almost leaving me as I close it behind me.

Her face is tearstained, her eyes watery. She's wearing an oversized t-shirt of mine that I didn't even realise I'd lost.

"Naya…" I don't have time to think, plan or feel, my body takes over and I'm wrapping her in my arms, pushing us both back onto the bed.

When we land her head is against my chest, her hands clinging to my shirt as she sobs unintelligibly, about failed mics and earpieces on the wrong setting.

I'm holding her close to me, our fronts flush together, with one hand I'm rubbing her back, and with the other I'm combing through her hair, still damp from the shower.

"It's okay…you were amazing…it's okay" I'm whispering, my lips so close to her ear that it doesn't even register that I should hesitate before I'm kissing her temple, her cheek, her hair.

We stay like that, wound easily together, just letting time slide past. My eyes close as I trace my fingers along her cheekbones, neck and the line of her jaw. I inhale deeply, saving every little detail, carefully committing it to memory, for all the nights I'm going to need it, the ones I don't even want to think about, the ones when she wont be there.

The sobs have been quiet for a while, and I feel her draw in a slow steadying breath which tells me she's about to look up at me. When she does I don't think twice about leaning down towards her.

"Heather…" she whispers, her voice a perfect split of warning and want, as I close the gap between us. As soon as our lips touch I know that I just lit a match in a tank of gasoline – but I don't care.

Naya's upset is soon forgotten, and our kisses are growing heated and hungrier. My hands are running up her t-shirt, the smoothness of her skin making my head spin.

Her hands are in my hair, pulling me close, telling me all that I know she's too scared to say, "I want you, come closer, don't stop'…and I don't.

I let my tongue move over her lips and soon enough they part and we're kissing harder, faster, enjoying the new dimension. I can feel it taking over me – passion, need, all the emotions of the past eight weeks pouring out like blood from a wound, driving me on.

Her shirt hits the floor and I'm yanking her bra off over her head, I don't have the time or patience to fumble with the clasp.

As I tentatively reach down and take an erect nipple into my mouth, she moans and her back arches off the bed – it makes me shudder, and I'm suddenly painfully aware of the heat building between my thighs, "Shit."

The millisecond of hesitation gives me away, and as she pushes into a sitting position beneath me, I'm utterly terrified she's getting ready to run away.

My heart almost stops.

Instead she slides out from under me, and pushes me back to the bed by my shoulders, relieving me of my clothes.

As she rids me of my panties – and discards her own, there's another pause and our eyes meet. I barely dare to breathe, too afraid to shatter the moment, painfully aware I'm laying naked on a bed, with all my flaws out there for her to see.

I begin to close my thighs, suddenly conscious.

"Heather" she breathes out again, and she's on top of me, our bare bodies pressed together, the contact causes us both to moan.

Her mouth finds mine and all is right in the world again, I kiss her hungrily, nipping at her lower lip, my tongue dancing in and out of my mouth, in a slightly sloppy way – but I'm so enthralled and turned on that I don't care.

As she places one knee on either side of my thigh and brings herself down to rest on me, I'm surprised by the trial of slick heat that covers my skin. I've imagined this hundreds of times, and yet it just never really occurred to me that she'd be so hot, so wet and so ready…for me.

She's attacking my neck when I slide a hand down between our bodies, and as my fingers touch her slick folds, I groan. She gasps into my collarbone, and I can feel my own wetness intensifying at the sound.

My fingers are circling her clit before I have time to wonder how the fuck I know what to do, and I feel her spread her legs wider, rubbing down on my hand.

As I pick up the pace she forgets my neck and pushes herself up, one hand either side of my head to look into my eyes.

Her jaw is slack, and a thin sheen of perspiration is starting to cover her forehead. Her breathing is ragged, and her irises are all dark chocolate, and black coffee and lust.

Without thinking as she rubs against my hand, I slip a finger back and let it slide inside her, my eyes trained to her face.

Her eyes snap shut and her head flops back as she pushes her hips down to push me deep inside her.

"Heather" she groans out again, and I whimper in response, my own need hammering on me so hard that it hurts. Almost as if she heard my thoughts, she's leaning down into my neck again, her teeth graze my lightly as her fingers find my clit.

I almost come at the first touch, and I feel her smirk and kiss me harder. She's already tightening around two of my fingers, and when she slips two of her own inside me, instantly touching a place that I didn't know existed, she has my eyes in the back of my head and my lips whispering "Shit".

She kisses the curse away.

"Together" she whispers and places a slow deliberate lick along my ear. I pump into her hard, knowing I have only seconds left. My fingers are buried knuckle-deep within her tight walls, my thumb on her clit, while she works me over like she's been manipulating my body all of her life.

As she touches _that_ spot one more time, I'm coming harder than I ever have in my life, and also louder. It must be enough to set Naya off, because I can feel her clench and unclench on my fingers as her body shudders too.

She's collapsed, half on top of me, half off. Her hand is tracing patterns across my hipbones, as we bask in our post orgasm haze.

She's wrapped up in my arms so tight, that for a fleeting second I wonder if she can breathe. I loosen my hold just a fraction, but she feels it all the same.

"Heather, I…we should…" she's sitting up, her hair still ruffled, her lips swollen and the faintest red glow colouring her cheeks. She's beautiful. I'm breaking.

I know I shouldn't but the selfish part of me speaks anyway, I let my eyes meet hers, "Please" it comes out as barely a whisper, but I know she hears as she leans down to kiss me again, this time gently, without the urgency of before.

We're kissing each other like we love each other…and I never want to stop.

I'm pouring my heart into every little movement, every slip of my lips against hers, every brush of my fingers across her perfect cheekbone.

As our kisses turn salty I realise I'm crying, or maybe she is? She must have tasted it too, as we pull apart slightly, to study each other's faces, both of our cheeks are stained with tears.

Suddenly fear is hot in my chest, that can't be the last kiss, she can't get up and put on her clothes, it can't be over just yet. I know I shouldn't, but I can't stop the words from tumbling out, my voice all husked and sincere, "I love you."

A fresh stream of tears rolls down her face as she smiles back at me sadly and replies, "I love you too."

Minutes later and we're kissing again, our hands exploring each other's bodies, mapping every dimple, curve and scar, just like it's the last time…because it is.

When her fingers find their way back between my thighs, I'm already wet and she slips inside me effortlessly as I trail my fingers down her abs to circle her bud. Our lips barely part as we gently and carefully grind each other up.

"I love you…I love you so much…I love you" I'm whispering in her ear like a mantra between kisses.

I can feel our tears soaking the pillows, but we don't stop. As I slide a single finger inside her, she exhales heavily into my mouth, her eyes flutter shut, and I realise. If this is the last time I get to have her, then I want to have her completely, in every way.

She groans in surprise when I slip off her fingers, and her eyes are full of questions as she watches me kiss lovingly down her and settle between her legs.

When I arrive at my destination, I'm suddenly nervous, I'm kissing the inside of her thigh as my head spins. I don't know how to do this, I want it so bad, I just don't know how to make it perfect.

As always she senses my hesitation, and a caramel hand is tangled in my blonde hair, gently guiding me back up to her face.

"It's okay" she's telling me.

"I want to, I'm just…I don't know how…"I trail off.

"I love you" she replies simply as she flips me onto my back, and moves down my body.

Now she's kissing my thighs and I'm nervous still.

"Nay…no ones ever…done that…ever."

She looks up and her eyes meet mine. The tears have stopped now, but I can't help thinking that the emotion on her face is the most raw, passionate and beautiful thing that I have ever seen.

"Good" she replies simply, and she's licking up my folds.

I moan loudly, reaching out for her dark locks. The sensation is foreign, yet addictive, the sight of her below me, and the warm wet feel of her working my bud, slipping in and out of me, quickly has a delicious tension building in my stomach.

She takes me slowly, building me up one step at a time, no hurry, just love.

"I love you so much" I gasp out.

In reply she slides two fingers deep inside me, as she continues to suck my clit.

I'm almost embarrassed at the unfamiliar spurt of liquid as I'm coming into her mouth, but she moans loudly and laps it up as if it were honey.

As my body shudders back down from its high – the most intense orgasm of my life, I'm already pulling her up towards me, needing her desperately to be wrapped back up in my arms, safe and close, before we lose each other again.

**Review if you want a part 2…I'm still undecided and wholly unsure on how this will be received.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: As requested, part 2. Thanks so much for all the interest in the last chapter :) so glad people enjoyed.**

**This is only going to a two-shot, however I am currently deciding on a pairing for my next multichap, so if you'd like it to be Heya, please do let me know.**

**Warning: This contains adult themes.**

More days disappear. Every hour that passes seems to put more distance between Naya and me, between us and the event.

I feel the walls around her going back up, and the wall between us doubling in size, as if to make up for our temporary forbidden break through. The tour rolls on, different cities, more shows.

I'm fine, I'm coping, I'm surviving. Every time I approach her talking to another member of the cast, our eyes meet and she quickly excuses herself, my heart breaks a little more.

I can hardly believe this is my life, for two entirely different reasons. Number one, on paper, I have it all, the boyfriend, the money, the fame, yet I've never felt so empty. Number two, despite having it all, I have nothing, and the one thing I want is something I never ever saw coming, I want her, no need her, more than I've ever needed anything in my life.

I'm lying in another hotel bed, trying not to think of her, and will myself to sleep, desperate to escape the dull ache that claws at my chest constantly. It feels like I'm bleeding, my emotions, my strength, my happiness, everything is just pouring out all over the floor, leaving a dark ugly trail behind me wherever I go. Yet no one is trying to patch me up, nobody's running to find me a bandaid.

I notice the hurt in Dianna's eyes when she looks into mine, searching for a light I know has left. I know Zach goes easy on me when I miss a step I should be able to do with my eyes closed. Even Lea is quieter than normal around me. I know all this yet I just don't react.

Something inside me is dying. All these people around me, my friends, my family, just seem to be looking on with sad eyes, but doing nothing. I'm lying here for a little longer, before I realise that they have no choice, I'm the only one who can help myself, yet my hands are bound.

There's a rapping on the door, and I'm up and across the room in seconds, a tiny spark of hope dancing in my stomach. Hauling the wood back, I'm relieved and disappointed all in one breath.

"Surprise!" he smiles widely but it doesn't quite touch his eyes. I don't feel anything. Something deep down is screaming about guilt, and horror, but it's all buried so deep that it barely registers. I'm silently thanking god for my acting classes, as somehow my mouth has pulled into a smile without me commanding it to do so.

"Taylor" I breathe, careful not to stumble over the name. It feels foreign on my tongue, and something in my mind screams the name that feels like it's destined to be the only one I ever scream again, _Naya, Naya, Naya_.

He's through the door, and his bags are at his feet. I close it, and steady myself. I turn and his face is inches from mine, his breath warm against my face, and it feels like an invasion.

"I missed you" his words are hushed, and I want to scream. As he leans in I look into his face, inhale his scent, desperately search for the remains of the love we once shared, the love I once had for him.

When his mouth hits mine, I part my lips out of habit, and for the first time since…it happened, I feel something.

I feel shame.

In all the years I'd known him, all the time we'd spent together, he'd always been so sweet, so caring, and I know better than anyone what a good person he is. He's kissing my neck and I'm trying not to cry. I never meant for this, for any of it, but now I feel like I've crossed a line, an invisible border that lay exactly at the point where my lips touched hers, and try as I might, there is no way I can go back.

He deserves better, so much better than me, better than someone who fell out of love with him, but is too scared to be alone, too scared to face what she truly wants.

His hands are under my shirt, and I'm crashing back to reality, back into the moment.

He's kissing me again, and I kiss him back hard, telling myself over and over this is what I chose, this is my life.

This seems to spur him on, and I let myself go, turning off everything in me that's screaming to stop, to just stop everything; To stop hurting her, and to never have to be truthful to him and crush him, to just stop, to cease to live, and just be.

My clothes are on the floor and he's above me, I close my eyes and pull him down. It's been a while and it hurts more than I thought, but I rock into him anyway, telling myself again and again, this is my life, this is Taylor, my Taylor…none of it makes sense anymore.

I let him take control, and laying back I close my eyes as he kisses sloppily down my neck. I can't help but remember more gentle kisses being placed there, and before I know it, I'm breaking.

The body above me is suddenly too heavy, too hairy and not soft enough. I desperately fight the feeling that I can't breathe. There's no soft dark hair tickling my skin, no sweet whispers, gentle touches, there's no…Naya.

He grunts, and I know it's almost over. As he hesitates mid-thrust to stare down at me, I remember I have a part to play, and force a small moan from between my lips, pushing my hips into his hard. He seems convinced, and as he collapses on top of me I'm fighting back the tears.

They're tears of anger, at myself, at her, at the situation, tears of shame for doing this to him, for falling out of love, for feeling all that I do, tears of desperation, for wanting her so maddeningly and so fucking much, and for loving her more than I can physically contain.

He's stumbling away into the bathroom, I can barely force myself to move, jamming my legs into shorts and pulling my shirt back on roughly, perching on the edge of the bed, lost.

"I'm sorry" he's striding across the room, pulling on his own clothes.

I just sit there and watch, almost feeling like I've shut down completely, why the hell is he sorry? I should be sorry, I'm the one who ruined this for us, I'm the one who is lying to him.

"I shouldn't have" he seems to be content to talk as he gathers his things, despite my lack of reaction. My head is spinning.

"What?" My voice sounds pathetic even to me.

"Damn it Heather!" he's suddenly angry, throwing his bag to the floor.

When he turns to me, there's a pain in his eyes I've never seen before, he looks how I feel, he looks ashamed.

"We shouldn't have done that, I shouldn't have…" he trails off, and is suddenly busy buttoning his shirt. Something inside me registers that what we just shared wasn't a hello… it was a goodbye.

"Done what? Taylor you're my boyfriend" I hate myself, I hate my lies, I hate everything, but I refuse to let myself think of what I want, not now.

"But you don't love me" his tone is soft, and the bed dips when he sits alongside me, a few feet between us. My eyes drift to study the distance, and it suddenly seems fitting.

I want to say no, I want to take away the hurt I can hear in his voice, the pain behind his eyes. I want to hold him like I once would have, and love him like I did, and yet I don't want any of that either. I don't want anything from him, because I just want her.

He's waiting. I'm flailing wildly, emotionally battered and too exhausted to be having this conversation, yet here I am. "I'm sorry" it comes out as a whisper.

"Me too" he replies, sadness colouring his tone, I can feel his eyes on me. I remain motionless, terrified eye contact would break me even more, finish me off.

Time is passing, my own breaths tell me so, and for a while that's all I can hear, feel, do…just breathe, then he's standing, grabbing his bag, ready to leave.

"I'm so sorry Taylor" guilt hits me like a freight train, and I finally look up, my eyes filling with tears, as I finally slam closed a very large chapter of my life.

To my surprise he's smiling sadly. "Tell me one thing?"

The question feels more like a last request, and I know I cannot deny it. "Anything…"

"It's her isn't it? It's always been her…" I see his eyes flash with jealousy and the muscles in his jaw stiffen, as we finally acknowledge what has been hanging unspoken between us for so long.

I want to scream, cry, hurl, run. Somehow I manage a small nod, and with that he's gone.

I collapse back onto the bed, sobs claim me, and eventually after I've cried myself out, so does sleep.

xxxxx

I'm still going on. Like a train with disconnected brakes, I'm barrelling forward, barely surviving the turns, no idea where the track is taking me, but I just can't stop.

Taylor is gone. Since he left my room that night, he left my life. All I can do is be grateful that he seems to be keeping it to himself, out of pride or compassion I'll never know, but I'm grateful still.

I haven't spoken a word of what happened that night, to anyone, except Dianna. Somehow we've become closer, she always seems to know what I need. When I'm dancing and my hearts not quite in it, and my eyes are glued to Naya who's pacing across the room, irritated with the routine, it's like those hazel eyes can strip back the lies and see just how broken I am.

When my voice breaks in a chorus, they find me, searching, yet she says nothing.

One night she raps lightly on my hotel room door, sits down with a bottle of tequila, the good stuff, and doesn't leave until the whole sordid thing is out. She holds me when I cry, and tucks me into bed when I practically pass out from the strong drink and exhaustion.

Days pass and neither of us say a word about our secret conversation, and my secret remains hidden. All I can think to do is go on, push through, just keep on moving.

xxxxx

I'm on stage, and it's our last show…the last show, and I barely know how I got here. For a while though, in front of thousands of people again, I'm safe. I'm Brittany, staring adoringly at Santana. Not Heather, staring longingly, regretfully, hungrily at Naya.

I'm standing under the blinding lights, and the audience are screaming her name… "Santana", the symmetry is almost sick, my mind's screaming _'Naya'. _

The skit is always my least favourite part of the show, always the part that hits a little too close to home. I babble on about crushing on some boy, while there's a deafening roar in my ears telling me that she's the one for me.

I look into the wings and see a pair of hazel eyes trained on me. Dianna's smiling at me, the most real smile she's given me in a while, all the pity I've been seeing over the last few weeks gone. I don't have time to react.

"I'll kiss you Britt."

She's there, and she's perfect. For a minute my mind lurches and I'm wondering if it's Santana kissing Brittany to give the fans what they so desperately want, or Naya kissing Heather, to give us what we so desperately need.

"I'll close my eyes"

It's short, and out lips barely touch, but it's enough. The fandom explodes in the audience, and fireworks explode in my head. As she pulls away, and our eyes lock, I know, I just know, Naya's staring back at me, not Santana, and I'm flying forwards, into her arms, squeezing her so tight, never wanting to let go.

"I love you" it's out before I have time to think.

She's laughing and pulling me off the stage. "She's my best friend" I add as an afterthought, suddenly conscious of my own outburst, and then it's dark, we're in the wings and she's pulling me behind a piece of backdrop.

"Dianna told you?" I manage, my head is reeling, my body's on fire because hers is so unbearably close for the first time in weeks. I want to laugh and I want to cry.

She doesn't answer, instead her lips find mine, and this time they don't pull away after the first touch. We're holding each other close and kissing like it's the last time all over again, but as we part, and her forehead rests on mine, I realise it's not.

"I love you too" she whispers, both our eyes filled with tears.

I know this will not be the last time that I'll kiss Naya.

This, is only the beginning.

**AN: Thanks so much for reading. Also please check out my Brittana story, Love is Love.**

**If you'd like my next multichap to be the sequel/heya, please let me know.**


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